


We Could Wait For Tomorrow

by slashmania



Series: 50 Thousand Words (from October to December!) [6]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blink, Eames to the rescue, First Kisses, M/M, fight me, he can also order lunch, he can play point man, in my opinion Arthur and Eames were always just waiting for the right time to be together, poor Arthur is having trouble blinking, stupid Somnacin reactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 17:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21103505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: “According to the Internet, Arthur, the average person blinks fifteen to twenty times per minute.” Eames glanced at the clock on Arthur’s phone, the one he’d borrowed to check the Internet about supposed average blinking rates. “You’ve been like this for five minutes-“Arthur sighed. “And I should have blinked anywhere from seventy-five to one hundred times in that period. And before you ask, yes I’ve been counting. I’ve blinked fifty-five times in five minutes. It’s about seventy-five percent of the lowest average.” Then Arthur shrugged. “All I know is that it’s pissing me off and making it harder to work...”





	We Could Wait For Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, I had to rewrite this several times, tried two different plots and finally stuck with this one because I blew through a couple thousand words to finally make Arthur and Eames kiss near the end. I loved it when the goal for Arthur became 'my eyesight is still blurry and I'm trying to not fuck up and kiss your nose'.
> 
> And if I keep up writing at this pace I might close the gigantic gap I've made.
> 
> Day 6: Blink  
3714 words

Arthur, as a responsible point man, usually tested all new mixtures of Somnacin their chemist would use during the job. It may not have been written out as a description of his position, but Arthur kind of treated it like it was.

Arthur’s personal description of the point man role included: background checks of new or returning employees; researching marks and clients; testing all mixes before the rest of the team went under.

Arthur _also_ secured the locations used during the planning stages of their jobs, cleaned up those locations before they used them, and cleaned up those locations after the job was completed to remove any traces of finger prints or DNA.

Arthur also stocked the fridges, what sometimes passed as kitchen cabinets, the restrooms, and any First Aid kits.

He was a _good_ point man.

But now that he was experiencing such a strange reaction to the latest mixture of Somnacin, he didn’t feel like a good point man. Good point men didn’t have issues related to _blinking_.

* * *

“According to the Internet, Arthur, the average person blinks fifteen to twenty times per minute.” Eames glanced at the clock on Arthur’s phone, the one he’d borrowed to check the Internet about supposed average blinking rates. “You’ve been like this for five minutes-“

Arthur sighed. “And I should have blinked anywhere from seventy-five to one hundred times in that period. And before you ask, _yes_ I’ve been counting. I’ve blinked fifty-five times in five minutes. It’s about seventy-five percent of the lowest average.” Then Arthur shrugged. “All I know is that it’s pissing me off and making it harder to work...”

Eames put Arthur’s phone back down on the arm of the lounge chair where Arthur had been left to wait out the side-effects of Yusuf’s latest compound.

“How about I give you a hand for now? You try to relax here while I’ll handle the other things you take care of.”

It took Arthur a moment, but he finally agreed with Eames’s offer.

“Don’t test another round of Somnacin, even if Yusuf asks. You can hand out the new information I’ve found on our mark and the prospective people you could try to forge later.”

“Thank you, darling. Just take a rest now.”

* * *

Eames went to Arthur’s desk and sat down.

Honestly, it wasn’t all that different from his own desk, which he rarely did much at because much of his time was spent either in the field or using the PASIV to perfect his forges.

But Arthur had a system. He was organized. And everything he mentioned was either waiting in a desk drawer, or already sitting in the tray of the point man’s portable printer.

And the desk was extremely clean, as well. Eames was certain that if he ran his finger across the surface of it, there wouldn’t be even a microscopic speck of dust lingering there. Then Eames did it to test it any ways.

_Of course, I’m right_, Eames thought as he looked at the pad of his index finger.

Then he set to work doing the work of the temporarily incapacitated point man.

“Wow, Eames, you have really stepped up to help Arthur!”

Eames paused as he handed out file folders full of the information Arthur had complied in the early morning before he’d tested the compound for Yusuf.

Eames placed Ariadne’s file folder in front of her. “I’d do the same for any other team member, Ariadne.” Eames finished passing out the other folders before finally taking his own seat.

"Okay, I'd like to go over the research Arthur has collected for us. Let's start with the background for the mark's business."

* * *

When Eames went to check on Arthur again, the point man was still laying down, but was now staring at the ceiling.

Or he could have been staring at the ceiling. Eames wasn’t exactly sure because the point man had put on a pair of dark sunglasses.

“How are you doing, Arthur?”

Arthur grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. He could have still been looking at the ceiling for all Eames knew.

“My eyes are still bothering me. The eye drops help a little with the dryness. And I guess I should be thankful that Yusuf’s latest mix hasn’t given me a more troublesome side-effect.”

Eames frowned. “It sounds like you’ve experienced your fair share in this line of work.”

Arthur must have been looking at Eames, or at least making an effort to make it more obvious that he was trying to do so because he’d turned his head towards where Eames’s voice was coming from, and kept looking in that direction while he spoke to Eames.

“Yusuf’s compounds rarely give me a problem. Other chemists I’ve had to deal with on different jobs aren’t as skilled as he is. Or maybe they’re just cocky. Either way, since I usually test the compounds before anyone else I get to experience some of the more embarrassing side-effects. I think the worst was the time I’d given the equivalent of a twenty four hour migraine. Or vomiting. Fuck, vomiting is the worst.”

Eames had his fair share of bad reactions, but like Arthur already mentioned, it sometimes depended on the chemist.

“I think the first time was the worst for me, but isn’t it always? None of us really knew what madness we were doing at the beginning. Those mixes created at the start of Project Somnacin were just awful. I spent more time thinking my head was spinning from the vertigo. And even long after the project was over it wasn’t unusual to run into similar problems. This one time I’d gotten together with a new team who needed a forger and the chemist had decided that what the Somnacin needed most was a side-effect that caused everyone to hallucinate.”

Eames thought about that experience with a sardonic smile. “Oh that was a horror show. The entire team plus the mark gets dosed with enough to make them loopy in the dream, right?”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“Yes, the dream became a bit of a horror show after that. Literally.”

Eames wasn’t going to mention how a bit of it went like the face peeling scene in _Poltergeist_. There were some things that Arthur didn’t need to know about that particular experience. The first description was enough.

* * *

Even after the official briefing was over and most of the team separated to start their own tasks or continue to delve into the detailed folders full of information carefully collected by Arthur, Eames continued to take on responsibilities that Arthur wasn’t up to at the moment- it only made Eames more aware that Arthur did a little bit of everything, half of which no one ever thanked him for.

Maybe no one really thought to thank Arthur for that stuff, but since Eames had access to Arthur’s desk, he had found the detailed list that outlined several of those activities that went unnoticed by some but still made the job easier and made the employees happier- or vice versa, really, if one thought that having happy employees made any job easier?

So Eames began following what he’d titled (to himself, privately) _Arthur’s To Do List_.

Eames had even made it into a little checklist, already thankful that Arthur was the sort to list things in the order they were meant to be performed, listed times, and made notes to himself in the margins of that to do list.

It was like reading Arthur’s thought process.

_Get it done before they arrive, obviously_ was scribbled alongside a series of steps involving opening up the warehouse and bringing in the supplies Arthur had purchased the evening before.

_Talk to Yusuf about testing the compounds_ and_ Speak with Ariadne_ _about the last build _and _Get Cobb on CALLING SCHEDULE for his children _were written next to a block of steps marked with asterisks, maybe Arthur’s shorthand for an event that he wasn’t sure when it would take place during the day considering there wasn’t a corresponding time for any of the starred items to take place.

And near the bottom of that block of steps and little handwritten reminders for each team member, Arthur had neatly written _EAMES. _Just _EAMES_, all caps, nothing else; no personalized step or task, nothing that seemed to relate to the job itself, but also no other hints about what it meant.

Eames looked at the next set of steps directly below his name, but couldn’t find anything significant. So he moved on to the next thing on Arthur’s list.

* * *

“Eames, what are you doing now?”

Eames stopped looking through the series of take-out menus Arthur had neatly placed into one of the other drawers at his desk. Cobb was squinting mightily, but mostly looked a little confused to see Eames busy at Arthur’s desk.

“I’m looking over our options for lunch,” Eames answered, short and to the point.

Cobb paused and almost looked like he was going to look over to where Arthur was still resting. It had been an hour, maybe a little more, and now the point man had taken off the glasses and now had a cold compress over his eyes and a timer going on his phone so he’d take it off after five minutes to see if it helped with the soreness he was experiencing along with the blinking problem.

“And before I started going over the options, I gave Arthur the cold compress. Trust me, I didn’t start thinking about lunch until Arthur suggested that it should be time to order something for everyone.”

“Oh,” Cobb said, surprised. “That sounds about right.”

Then Cobb walked off, and Eames took it upon himself to ask everyone what they wanted.

* * *

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?”

“Cobb, I’m no use to anyone here. You heard Yusuf.”

And yes, Yusuf had made it a point to drag a chair over to where Arthur had set himself up to be out of everybody’s way. The chemist tested Arthur’s eyes himself; used a flashlight and examined Arthur’s pupils; he noted that Arthur’s eyes were obviously irritated as a result of not being able to blink as much as he needed to, that the eye drops were helping, but that the current mixture of Somnacin appeared to have weakened the muscles around his eyes, maybe...

“A bit of a neurological mishap, Arthur,” Yusuf explained. “The effects are temporary, but I’d suggest that you go home and take a long rest. Get some actual sleep, drink plenty of fluids, and don’t attempt to use a computer, look at your phone, and so on.”

Arthur sighed, but he nodded and agreed with him. “So it basically won’t last but I have to give it time. I’m going to need a lift, then.”

Eames volunteered as tribute. A happy tribute.

“I’ll be happy to take you home, Arthur.”

* * *

It really didn’t take that long. Getting all of Arthur’s things together, letting Arthur pull Cobb aside to talk to him about that schedule thing (_“Because I understand you don’t like to be separated from your kids, but you jumped back into dreamshare once you thought things had settled down and the kids were on a steady routine. Seriously, just choose an hour during the workday and make _that_ the time you call home and bug the person you have babysitting your kids...and yeah, sure, if I’m around I’ll say hey to them too.”_), and then leaving the warehouse with Arthur’s laptop and messenger bag.

Eames took Arthur’s car, and drove him home. He walked Arthur to the door, remaining a comforting presence at his side. He was basically just close enough that if Arthur felt worried about his eyesight, which he’d confessed, was getting a little blurry during the ride in the car, he could at least grab onto Eames’s arm and trust him to lead the way.

They got all the way to the door with no incidents of tripping, falling, or accidentally dropping anything.

Eames really hadn’t intended to stick around for very long, but he did want to help Arthur get situated. Eames put the laptop and messenger bag away while Arthur walked to his bedroom, one hand against the wall to guide himself in a straight enough line, intending to change out of the suit he’d worn to work.

And Eames stood uncertainly in Arthur’s living room, mostly waiting to see if Arthur wanted anything else. His former _happy tribute_ status was beginning to splinter into a nervous pondering about the EAMES note in Arthur’s to do list margin.

Then Arthur reappeared in his living room, once again pressing one hand against the wall for the sake of balance, but now was dressed down in what he’d likely be sleeping in. The shirt was from some blood drive, and the sweatpants were just sweatpants, at least Arthur looked comfortable...and Eames wondered where he was going wrong if what Plato said was true: At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.

Even if Eames had several years to get over the newness of it, and settle into the teasing back and forth he’d started with Arthur where they didn’t actually talk about their feelings beyond the superficial ones that didn’t have lasting impact and had proven wouldn’t change what they had. Arthur and Eames would always be argumentative, competitive, and obviously attracted to each other.

“Well, Mr. Eames, thank you for everything today. You really came through for me, and I just really appreciate all the effort you put into it.”

Eames smiled for Arthur, ready to say his goodbyes so he could call up an Uber and question his life decisions on the ride back to the warehouse. Eames put Arthur’s car keys on the coffee table, but found that he had one question. The one he really still couldn’t get out of his head.

“I know this is silly to bring up, but I was looking at your check list today and noticed you had my name in the margin? I was wondering if there was something you intended to talk to me about the job?”

Arthur’s eyes widened for a second, and then he laughed in surprise!

“Damn it, I forgot I left that thing sitting around. To be honest, I prepare those types of check lists every few days or every week so I can stay on top of things. If there’s anything related to a job, I’ve got to make sure certain things are addressed- I’ve got to prepare the warehouses, I have to make sure everything is stocked up because god forbid we run out of toilet paper and Cobb gets this confused look on his face that would beg me to mock him for thinking that some Benevolent Toilet Paper Fairy was keeping us stocked,” Arthur said, then laughed.

Eames couldn’t help it, he laughed along with Arthur because he’d seen Cobb in a similar situation when they’d run out of coffee filters in one of their other warehouses.

“I looked at that list and couldn’t figure out the reasons why you had me on there. There wasn’t even a corresponding step related to me. The others were easy because you had an architecture related topic for Ariadne, a Somnacin related topic for Yusuf, and then a reminder to get Cobb to choose an hour to call his children.”

“I always leave a reminder about you, Eames.” Arthur explained simply. “We always find a chance to talk during a job, even it is to argue about dream theory a little, but I find that it’s easier to get a plan in place when I talk with you about it.”

“And that’s all?” Eames asked, half wondering why he was bothering to dig this hole if it wasn’t something either of them truly wanted.

“After everything that happened today, I’d like to do something, but I don’t want you to read into it too deeply.”

“Are you going to question the way that I handled the briefing without you there to challenge the points I was making?”

“Why? You actually started doing that yourself by reading points I’d made in the documents and then giving your thoughts on it and how it might not work, then subtly tweaking it till it worked the way you thought it might.”

“Are you going to get mad at me for going through your desk?”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “It’s a desk. You didn’t find anything that represented a security risk and you didn’t make a mess. That was fine. You did fine. If I had to choose anyone on the team to take over for me for a day, I’d have to choose you, Eames.”

Eames would have said he was at a loss for what Arthur was talking about, but if he had to guess, he’d go with his gut. He would go with what he’d _like_ it to be. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Arthur noticed everything. He always noticed everything, and even if neither of them had taken large steps to change their relationship as it was, there could be a difference between how they conducted themselves at work and how they conducted themselves in private, which they really hadn’t done at all.

“If you stay still and don’t make any sudden moves, there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a little bit. But I figured it would be easier if I took baby steps, you know.”

“Sure,” Eames said. He stood still and waited. He was willing to take metaphorical baby steps while Arthur took the literal ones.

Arthur was careful. He had to take his hand off the wall to meet Eames in the middle of the living room, and once he reached the forger, he carefully placed his hands on Eames’s shoulders.

“I’ve never been more grateful that we’re of the same height, Eames.”

Up this close, Eames watched Arthur’s face and tried to determine if Arthur was having a harder time seeing now considering how blurry his vision got during the ride. Arthur was as lovely as ever, but his eyes did look tired.

Eames stayed still, just like he promised.

Arthur kept one hand on Eames’s shoulder, then used the other to follow the column of Eames’s neck, then carefully cupped Eames’s cheek. Arthur closed his eyes for a second and quietly said, “If I miss, I’m going to be terribly embarrassed with myself for even trying this while my vision sucks so much.”

Eames responded in an equally soft voice. “We could wait for tomorrow.”

Arthur would have shook his head but clearly didn’t want to ruin what he felt was probably the best angle. “If I miss, I’ll kiss you twice.”

And Arthur didn’t wait for a reply!

He leaned in and pressed his mouth against Eames’s, and was off center by maybe an inch or two. Between Eames reaching out to help direct the kiss and Arthur not resisting, it was fine. A successful first kiss.

Arthur ended it first, and Eames was a little surprised when he tried to lean back in when it ended.

Arthur laughed, “I didn’t miss, Eames.”

Eames was willing to argue the point. “To be fair I gave you a little help.”

“A little. To be honest I was more worried that I’d end up kissing your nose instead of your lips. And I wasn’t going to go for a kiss on the cheek- what are we, grade schoolers?”

“You did mention baby steps, though,” Eames said.

Arthur sighed. “I don’t know. Ever since the inception, I’ve been thinking about things I want to change in my life. I really like working with you, but I used to think I’d have to choose one over the other. Relationship versus excellent working relationship.”

“If I had a say, I’d keep both.”

“You’ll always have a say, Eames. I won’t make a unilateral decision. I want to keep both, too.”

“Then we already have an excellent start, don’t we, darling?”

There was an embrace, a brief one, before Arthur mentioned feeling tired and Eames offered to walk Arthur back to his room.

One short walk later, one lingering kiss at the door, and a promise that Arthur would call Eames to tell him how he was feeling in the morning. That if he was feeling better he would return to work and prepare for the upcoming extraction. And if he wasn’t he’d take another day to get the rest he needed. Eames waited long enough to make sure that Arthur got into bed safely.

Once Eames left, he waited for his Uber driver and considered what he was going to do when he got back to the warehouse. He had one idea that was just silly. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head though. He was going to do it.

He was thinking that when Arthur got back the next day he’d probably laugh at the notation Eames would leave on the checklist he’d been following for most of the day. Would Arthur laugh, or smile, or follow the notation to the letter?

Eames hoped so. He really did because he was going to write _kiss Eames twice more_ beneath his name, in that empty space he’d found so perplexing for most of the day. What happened was a start, and it was amazing that these events were all put into motion by something as bizarre as a reaction to the latest compound. Not being able to blink, or even blink as often as he should.

Eames was already wondering if he should volunteer to test the latest, more refined batch of Somnacin that Yusuf cooked up. Considering that he’d had fairly bad reactions to worse batches of the stuff made by chemists with less training than Yusuf, Eames could probably handle it.

After all, it wasn’t like he was going to have another _Poltergeist _inspired reaction mid-dream. It wouldn’t happen again. And even if he _did_ get the same reaction as Arthur, at least the point man would be there to help him if his own symptoms were gone.

If he had to, Eames would force the chemist to drive _him_ home if it happened again.


End file.
